Balance (Off Balance Book 1)

by Lucia Franco

  “I’m well aware.”

  “So no excuses.”

  “I won’t make any.” He remained silent, so I continued. “World Cup produces champions, I came here to be coached by the best so I can be the best. I’m not leaving.”

  “It is not about being the best, it is about how hard you work and how much you give without expecting anything in return. How much you train, how much you push when no one is looking. It is about how deep you dig within, knowing you did all you could possibly do and have no regrets at all. Even then, there is a chance it is still not enough.” Kova exhaled a heavy breath. “I cannot make you the best, only you can do that. Your body can endure just about anything—it is your mind you have to convince.”

  Determined, I looked directly in his eyes. “I’ll prove I can handle it.”

  Kova nodded slowly, a devious smile gracing his handsome face. I swallowed hard.

  “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. Right, Coach?”

  “In your case, only time will tell.”

  “Let us get started.”

  Following behind Kova, he led the way down the hall to one of the rooms in the back. He walked like he was on a mission. His shoulders were rigid and I found the way he marched when he walked intimidating. It was like he had a one track mind—an assignment needed to be tackled and dealt with. I guess I shouldn’t complain since he’d taken time out to help me personally, but he reminded me of a drill sergeant. He was all listen, look, and don’t talk.

  The don’t talk part was my biggest weakness.

  World Cup was much larger than I ever imagined when we first showed up. Aside from the remarkable gym and dance rooms, there was a muscle therapy room, showers—which I would never use—and a cafe equipped with a kitchen and tables scattered throughout. Thanks to my dad, the cafe was built as part of the agreement for me to train here.

  Pushing the door open, Kova flipped on the lights. He didn’t waste time starting the private sessions. It’d been three weeks since we had our little chat and he implemented the new schedule.

  The room held two exam style tables with navy blue, cushioned tops. There was a tall storage cabinet on the other side of the wall and various exercise equipment. Black folded mats, large yoga balls that were fun to bounce on, and elastic ropes used for restraint training hung from the walls. I knew he was concerned about my lack of flexibility—or so he said—but I was pretty sure he was delusional.

  “Get undressed.”

  My leo was already on, so I took off my shoes, pants, and shirt, and stuffed them into my bag. I always wore loose fitted comfy pants and a regular tee to practice. Easy on, easy off. I took out a pair of black spandex mini shorts and slipped those on and waited.

  “So, what are we going to do?” I asked curiously.

  “We, are not going to do anything—you are.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  I tracked Kova as he moved around the room. “You are going to stretch without stretching. A lot of athletes believe the more you do will help with flexibility. That is not always the case. Sometimes stretching aggressively backfires. It is short lived and can cause injuries.” He paused. “Every athlete is different, so what works for one may not work for the other. It is all trial and error, but I have found this helps with flexibility the best. ”

  I nodded, listening to him. I’d never heard this, but then again, I’d never seen anyone bounce on kneecaps either.

  “Your former coach was concerned about your range of motion.” Kova patted one of the tables, motioning me over. I closed the distance and jumped up. “I have been watching you the past few weeks, your shoulders and hips are tight. I have noticed you cannot go straight into a split, how it takes time for your hips to loosen until you hit the floor. Your leaps could use work and so could your angles. You are careful and it is obvious. Being cautious is not a bad thing, but it will hold you back. It is almost like your brain is subconsciously protecting you from over doing it, which will hinder your advancement in this sport.”

  I eased into conversation. “Yes, it does take me a little time to loosen up, but I thought that was normal before a workout for anyone.”

  He shook his head. “Lie back. Scoot forward so your legs are dangling off the table.” I did as he instructed. “Good. Now lift your knee and bring it to your chest. It should be flat to your chest without your other leg coming up.”

  It wasn’t flat, and my knee did come up. Kova gave me a knowing look. “See?”

  “Don’t you think it’s because I just walked in and haven’t stretched at all?”

  “No, this is a simple thing that you should be able to do. Do it again.”

  This time when I did it, Kova laid a hand high up on my thigh to hold my leg down. When I couldn’t bring my knee to my chest, he stepped in closer and helped widen my range of motion by pressing my knee to my chest, pushing on my shin, and holding down my other leg. His hands were large and capable of covering a vast amount of my skin. I grimaced inwardly so he wouldn’t hear me complain about the strain on my muscles.

  “You feel it, yes?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

  I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but I also had a feeling he’d be able to tell I was lying. “I do,” I grunted when he pressed harder, “but I also think it’s because I haven’t warmed up yet.”

  Kova let go and stepped back. “Now, scoot up, bend your knees, and put both feet at the end of the table. Place your hands flat by your sides and then lift your hips.”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I did as he asked.

  “How does that feel?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, good?”

  Kova’s eyes slowly grazed the length of my torso to my thighs and a shiver ran through me. “Can you not feel that your hips are not elevated all the way?” My brows cinched together and he stepped closer again. “Lift higher,” he ordered, placing his hand to my butt and holding it there. Warmth surged through me from his searing touch. I finally felt it and I couldn’t hide the tight pinch in my hips as he lifted me higher.

  “I still think this is just because I haven’t done any warm ups this morning yet, Coach,” I grumbled. Apparently, I needed to remind him the sun was still rising, too.

  Ignoring me, he said, “We are going to do various stretching techniques and breathing drills to help you. It is really all a mental thing, so we will train your brain to accept it.”

  “Train my brain to accept it?” I paused, trying to find the right words because this was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “I’m sorry, Coach, but I don’t understand how basically manipulating myself is going to help with tight hips and shoulders.”

  He stared at me for a long moment before he said, “It is like relearning a skill you already know how to do and learning it correctly. Like breaking a bad habit. But in order to break a bad habit, you have to think differently. In your mind, if you keep stretching and over stretching, it will help, yeah? It will give you the range of motion you need?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “So you are over doing it, and pushing and straining harder because you think it will make a difference when it clearly has not. Over stretching does not necessarily work. It is bad for your muscles. The stretching techniques I am about to teach you do in fact help. There will not be any strain on your body and they are safer for you. At your level, you should have a wide range of motion, but you do not. We can correct that. It is not uncommon, and this is not the first time I have seen this happen, but typically it comes with injury.”

  This was, by far, the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. Somehow lying to myself would fix my tightness. Oh, how about I just lie to myself and think I could do a triple front tuck on the floor when, in reality, I couldn’t. Training myself to think I could do it would only give me a broken neck and a wheel chair for the rest of my life, not the actual ability.

  Kova propped his hands on his hips. “You are skeptical.”

&n
bsp; Sometimes, just sometimes, I wished he’d use contractions.

  “I am,” I said honestly.

  “So we will do a little test. Today, we warm up my way and then you start your workout. Tomorrow, and the next couple of weeks, you do it your way and see how it goes.”

  I smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

  Kova ushered me up and took me to the floor, where I did a split that didn’t quite reach the ground, and a squat where my hips were parallel to my knees, but I couldn’t go any farther. It actually hurt to squat this low without stretching the way I normally did. “Now, remember where you started this morning, yeah?”

  I nodded and he took me back to the table. I decided not to question him. Regardless of his unusual training habits, I knew I was limited with my range.

  Kova had me lie down, face up, and place my foot on my thigh. My back bowed just a bit and my knee didn’t fall to the side, which meant my hips weren’t open just yet. I did this with both legs. Then brought my knee to my chest again, and this time he stepped up to my side to help, catching me off guard. Kova placed his hand on the back of my bare thigh and my heart did a little somersault in response. He pressed my knee to my chest and used his other hand to hold down the opposite thigh.

  The silence was odd. Really, really odd. Kova fixated his gaze on the white wall behind my head. I was curious to know what went through his mind since his eyes hardly moved. He was focused and in the zone. His body was so close I could see a hint of his facial hair growing in, but he smelled amazing. So good I inhaled a little too loud to get a better sniff.

  He looked down and instructed, “No. Breathe with your stomach, not your chest and shoulders. Your stomach should come out when you inhale and your ribs will expand. We will work on breathing too, just not today.”

  With my eyes locked with Kova’s, I drew in a measured breath. My heartbeat picked up in the silence and I took note of where he placed his hand—way up on my leg near my mini shorts. Okay, maybe it wasn’t way, way up. It wasn’t like I had these long super model legs or anything, he just had large hands that took up a lot of space on my thigh.

  I exhaled leisurely and he gave a slight nod of approval. Kova let go and walked around to the other side of the table where he applied the same technique to my opposite leg. He watched me, as I did him, and I wasn’t sure what to think of the dense silence between us. I couldn’t tell if his focus was on making sure I breathed correctly, or to count the freckles on the bridge of my nose.

  His hand moved to the back of my thigh and pressed inwardly, deeply massaging my hamstring with his fingers. My stomach clenched, the sensation shot straight to my core, causing a burst of heat to strike through me. I had a notion it wasn’t supposed to feel this good.

  “Your hamstrings feel a little too tight. Even with muscle, you should feel soft here, not hard like a rock. Loose and pliable,” he said, voice low, and continued to feel around. “This is probably due to over stretching and overuse. Stiff muscles are not healthy and can cause lack of flexibility in both your hips and legs, which then could result in an injury. Stretching your hips consistently is key and should be done daily.”

  The pull inside my leg was tight and the urge to bend my knee was strong. Kova sensed the lift in my leg and firmly said, “No.”

  His calloused hand leisurely drifted down my leg and gripped my knee. “Breathe. Feel what your body is doing, what position you are in, what it will help you accomplish. Focus on the movement and what it will do for you.” His hand continued to my calf and he clucked his tongue in disapproval when he prodded the toned muscle.

  I closed my eyes and followed his instructions. My body began to relax as I imagined the position I was in, the new way of stretching that would help me in the future. Opening my hips, I counted to ten and then reopened my eyes, only to find Kova immersed in me.

  He was close, so close his breath hit my cheek. I knew his eyes were a pretty shade of green, similar to mine, but where I had wide, doe eyes, Kova’s were more prominent and forward. Demanding. The lime green encased by the black circle was remarkable.

  “Your eyes...” I whispered, “they’re beautiful.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up, his full lips twisting into a grin. My cheeks glowed with warmth and I became innately aware of my surroundings, Kova’s close proximity, and where his hands were, how his fingers pressed into my skin. A flush of heat surged through me and I wondered if he could feel my skin warming. He leaned in just a bit more to press on my leg. The strain was more acute and I fought against a grimace.

  Just before backing away, Kova’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something. Only, his eyes hardened and a crease formed between his wide brows. Nothing came out.

  Me and my stupid mouth.

  The weighty silence was too much for me to handle. “You guys should get a radio,” I suggested, anything to bridge the weirdness between us. Kova looked perplexed, at a loss for words over my idea. As if a radio was such an appalling suggestion.

  “We do not need a radio in this room, only in the gym for floor routines and the dance room. You will lose focus with music. Do eight counts in your head.”

  This had to be his idea of a joke. A really lame joke. He wanted me to do eight counts, counting to eight over and over to myself...a million times!

  My eyes scanned around the room. “I don’t see how that’s possible with you nearly lying on my leg.”

  Fuck. Avery would have a field day with me once I told her the stupid shit that came out of my mouth.

  “I am not going to acknowledge that sarcastic little comment of yours.” Kova stepped back and took my ankle into his hand. “Put your leg down,” he said. I did, and he placed my ankle over my thigh to lie flat, in a half butterfly position. Standing in front of me with one hand on my knee and the other on my ankle, he applied pressure.

  Jesus Lord, did I ever feel the strain in my hips now. This was a different pull compared to the times I stretched, and I was beginning to see what he meant earlier. My chest pushed out and my head angled back. I squeezed my eyes shut to deal with the burn. “Uh-uh.” He lightly slapped my thigh, bringing my attention to him. “Lie flat and breathe correctly. I will let up a little bit.”

  Focusing on his eyes, I did as he instructed. He kept his word and eased up, but not as much as I would’ve liked.

  “Inhale, exhale, Adrianna. Stop breathing like you are running for the first time in your life. You are not a fish out of water. It is not that bad.”

  A burst of laughter came out of me. My eyes widened and I flattened my lips between my teeth so I wouldn’t laugh again, or smile, which only made it worse. Between his odd comments and heavy Russian accent, I couldn’t help but want to imitate him. Not to be mean, but because it sounded funny.

  “I’m sorry for laughing,” I said, covering my mouth. “I don’t know why I found that funny.”

  Just when I thought he was going to scold me for my outburst, Kova’s face relaxed and a flash of humor settled in his eyes. Shaking his head, there was a faint grin on his face.

  “If you keep that kind of breathing up, it will only work against you in the future.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  Standing, I lifted my knee and pulled my leg up in a half circle in front of my hips. “I don’t know, I think I can tell my range is broader. My hips feel more open, if that makes sense.” And they did feel a bit looser, which was nice.

  He nodded. “Good. That is what I want you to feel. Now go get ready for practice, I will see you over there.”

  Kova patted my shoulder and then left. I quickly gathered my things and made my way to the locker room where I found Hayden.

  “How’d it go?” he asked from the other side of the room.

  “As good as it could possibly go, I guess. His methods are a little strange. ”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With his drills and stretches. He does things I’ve never seen or heard of in my life.”

&nb
sp; Hayden smiled, his dimples showing as he looked in his duffle bag. “But he knows his shit.” Shutting his locker, he walked over to my side. “You want to go to Starbucks after practice? Grab a coffee? ”

  I pursed my lips together. “My, Hayden Moore, I hardly know you. Are you asking me on a date?” I said in a heightened, sarcastic, southern belle voice. “‘Cause you know Mr. World Cup himself says that’s not allowed.”

  Hayden cracked his knuckles as a smile slid across his face. He was pretty cute. “How about you buy your own coffee. That way it won’t come off as a date, because believe me, it’s not.”

  I shut my locker door and turned toward him. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “IS WORLD CUP everything you thought it’d be?” Hayden asked. It was early, only five in the afternoon, and we were finished with practice.

  We grabbed our coffees, plus a sandwich for him, and made our way outside to one of the tables. I’d called Alfred and let him know I was going to get coffee with my new friend and that he would give me a ride home.

  I chuckled, unsure how to answer his question. “Hard to say, it’s only been a few weeks. Ask me again in six months.”

  Sitting down, he unwrapped his food and I could smell the delectable scent. My stomach grumbled. I was starving, but I also needed to watch my weight.

  “Want half?” he asked.

  I gave him a droll stare. “You know I can’t have that.”

  “Sucks to be you,” he said playfully, popping a piece into his mouth.

  Cupping my venti coffee, I took a sip of the dark roast I’d come to love. With just a splash of coconut milk, I was good to go.

  “I’m curious,” he said swallowing. “How did you find out about World Cup?”

  My eyes shot to the table. “My dad’s friends with Coach and gave him a call. They do business together sometimes.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. So, honestly, what’d you think of Kova?”

  I was glad he didn’t prod. “He’s...interesting. And different than any other coach I’ve ever had. I’m open to anything that’s going to help me, but at the same time, I don’t know what to think. You know what he told me this morning? That I have to basically manipulate myself. He didn’t say manipulate, he said train my brain, but I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s what he meant. Train my brain to do what exactly? Things I know I’m not ready for so I can break a bone and be out for the season? Who encourages that?”